(poems go here)
I want those heels-
Those sparkling, silver heels-
With shanks so long that I could stab someone with those heels,
The type of shoes that my mom would call “stripper heels”.
Yes, they might be stripper heels
But I don’t care.
Yes, I know that I don’t wear heels much
But I want them anyways.
They call to me
How the Ring calls to Golem.
Their glittering exterior makes
Me flock to them like a magpie.
I don’t care if I look like
a Stripper in them.
I’m not pretty enough to make
a half decent stripper anyways.
But maybe, just maybe,
I’ll feel pretty with them.
I’ll feel pretty and tall and fierce
All of the things that I’m not.
And I’ll walk down the hall
And with each step my heels will resound
With a clickity-clack and a clackity-click
And my heels will kick ass.
They probably even smell shiny,
What with all of that rough glitter.
Gleaming like shards,
Shards of broken glass.
If this was like the movies
And someone were to lick my heels,
I bet that all they’d taste is the
blood from their shredded tongue and fierceness.
After all, those heels are
Towering, twinkling and bright,
The type of heels that make others stare.
I can imagine it now.
But my daydream fades as I’m ushered away
Toward smaller heels in neutral colors
But none of them can compare
To The Heels.